by Vivian Gray
But there’s always this nagging feeling in the back of my mind telling me it’s all a charade. She’s playing you, the voice in my head tells me. She’s playing you, and you’re going to get your comeuppance one of these days for all the shit you’ve done. But that’s not how it feels.
During the day, we’re practically playing house now – she’s cooking meals, and they’re really good, and she’s keeping the house clean. Meanwhile, the nights are filled with the same kind of passion we had when she was tied up. I’ve even loosened my rules a little bit – going against club policy by allowing her to wear clothes around the house. A lot of the time, she’s just wearing one of my old T-shirts and a pair of my boxers, but it’s cool. It’s nice to come home to.
A couple of days pass since I let her upstairs, and it becomes almost a routine: during the day, she’s up keeping the place tidy, making meals, and occasionally relaxing by watching TV, but at night, she’s back in her room, tied up and naked, and I’m on her like a bumblebee on a rose. I’m all over her. I love every bit of it, dominating her, keeping her close to me, having her scent on me the next morning… it makes it all worth it.
But today is going to be different. I spoke with Crusher last night, and he wants to have a meeting at my place with some of the boys – and with Maria. Seems Crusher is ready to make his move on a shipment that Maria had mentioned to me and then I had mentioned to him. But he needs Maria’s expertise to point out exactly where these Espinoza motherfuckers are going to be – and how we can get them.
Then there’s the little matter of the spy in our ranks. Crusher has kept the information between the two of us, not mentioning anything to the rest of the crew. I think he’s having a bit of trouble trusting anyone right now – anyone, that is, aside from me. Somehow, I’ve gotten into his good graces – and with damn good reason.
I’ve done everything he’s asked, and I’ve been a good soldier, following orders and getting the job done. But I think Crusher is starting to get antsy to find whoever the traitor might be.
That afternoon, I’m chilling with a beer watching TV, Maria sitting beside me on the sofa, when we hear their motorcycles revving down the block. Maria jumps up in order to run to the basement, but I calm her down.
“Look, Crusher knows you’re helping us,” I say. “If he has any problem with you being up here, he’ll let me know, don’t worry.”
“What about my clothes?” she asks, beginning to strip in front of me by pulling off the T-shirt she’s wearing. “I don’t want to make any trouble for you, Blade.”
I shake my head energetically. “You won’t,” I insist, reaching up and pulling her towards me. “Put the shirt on. You think I want a bunch of horny bikers checking out what I get to hit every night? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pig,” Maria says playfully. “But seriously, I don’t mind. I’m not embarrassed by my body.”
“Nor should you be.” I smile. “But to be completely honest, I want these guys focused on the task at hand – not on the things they’d do to you if they had you.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s just better this way.”
She nods and pulls my oversized black T-shirt back over her head. It falls down to her knees, but it still shows off a little of her ass when she bends over.
So, I dart into my room, grab a pair of athletic shorts – the only pair I own, really – and toss them to her. “Put these on, too. If we’re going to get you dressed, we might as well have you fully clothed.”
Moments later, there’s a knock at the door. I open it up, and Crusher files in, followed by Slime and a few other guys – the inner circle brain trust, if you will. These are the guys that Crusher trusts beyond a shadow of a doubt – or, at least, he did until Maria planted the seeds of discontent in his head.
“Blade,” Crusher says cordially. “How’s it going, my man?”
“It’s going okay, boss,” I tell him. “I’m ready to crush some fucking Espinoza skulls. Er… present company excepted,” I add quickly, darting a glance at Maria.
“What the fuck is this?” Slime demands, giving Maria a once-over. “Blade, what the fuck are you doing letting this bitch up here – and letting her wear clothes? The fuck is this, some kind of fuckin’ playacting? You gonna play house with this cunt?”
“Slime,” I seethe out, trying my best to control my anger, considering that Slime outranks me, “back the fuck off. I let her up here because she knows the Epinozas’ movements and she’s willing to help us on that. That’s all. If you don’t like it, you can stuff it because this is what we’re doing today.”
“Well that’s fine, Blade,” Slime says with sarcasm. “But what about the clothes? Bitches in custody don’t get the privilege of wearing clothes.”
“She’s not in custody, you jagoff. She’s… my guest. She’s helping us, which is exactly what we wanted. And besides all that.” I step in front of Slime – a risky move, considering his position in the club. “The last thing I want is for your horny ass to start getting distracted by a sexy naked woman standing in front of you. We all know what a hard time you have paying attention when a pair of tits are involved.”
“That’s – that’s not true, you fucking piece of—”
“All right, enough!” Crusher’s voice rings through the room. “Now, Slime, do us all a favor, and shut the fuck up, would you, please?”
“But boss—”
“No fucking buts, Slime,” Crusher retorts, almost sounding like an annoyed father. “Shut the fuck up so we can get to work, would you?”
“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Slime grumbles out, his tone every bit the petulant teenager to Crusher’s dad-like intonation.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to lighten the mood in the room just a little bit, “Maria here says she can help us figure out what the best way is to intercept this Espinoza shipment, and, well, I think we need to listen to her. She hasn’t led us astray so far, and I think she wants to help us out.”
“How do we know that for sure?” Slime interjects. “Like, how can you be sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she’s going to help us, and not be a shill for her father?”
“My father,” Maria speaks up, causing Slime to go bug-eyed, “is a worthless piece of shit. He desperately wants me to be a part of his cartel, but it’s never something I’ve wanted. That’s why my sister got away too – we never wanted any part of his bullshit. And yet he forces it on us, and forces it on us, and forces it on us until we have no choice but to relent and say, ‘Yes, Dad, whatever you say.’
“My father is a bad man. I know this. And while you may not be all good men, I trust Blade. And if that means putting my trust in all of you, then so be it. I want to help. I want my father to back down. I want to see what he really cares about because I’m relatively certain it isn’t me. So you can listen to me, or you can not listen to me, but either way, I’m going to give you good information, and I would highly suggest you take it.”
I’m left speechless by her monologue. In just a few moments, she has defused a tense situation, put the boys in their place – especially Slime, which I love – and managed to gain credibility from all quarters. Maria is, in a word, incredible.
“Okay, Miss Espinoza,” Crusher says cautiously, eyeing her with equal parts suspicion and awe, “tell us then, what is the deal with your father’s cartel?”
Maria takes a deep breath. She must know what will happen if she divulges privileged information. If her father learns of her deception, she’ll be a marked woman, in just as much trouble with him as we are. She’ll also be an outcast and never be able to go home again. If she’s to do this, her life as she knows it is over.
But, strong woman that she is, Maria plows on ahead. “Okay, so the deal is this: my dad’s cartel is strong, but it has its weak spots. There are at least ten guys on any given day guarding the storehouse on Crescent Drive, but I know all of the guys who tend to guard it. My cousin, Marco, is the lead gu
ard, and he goes out and takes a smoke break every hour on the hour. He leaves the shipments to Roberto Sandoval, his best friend. Roberto is klutzy, though, and he likes his weed a little too much. It’s not uncommon for him to fall asleep while he’s on watch, even when there’s a shipment coming in.
“So here’s what I say you do: you wait until Marco goes out for his smoke break and knock him out. And I’m very serious about this: please don’t kill him because that will only cause more trouble, and besides, he may be an idiot, but he’s not a bad guy. So, you knock him out, and then you make your way out back to where the shipment comes in. Roberto will probably be asleep when you get around back.”
“What if he’s not?” Slime asks, though he’s plainly as intrigued as I am by Maria’s apparent cunning and strategic mind.
“Then you abandon all hope, I guess,” Maria retorts sarcastically. “No, you just wait. Take Roberto’s stoned ass inside and tie him up or something – whatever you guys usually do. Again, please, I’m begging you, please don’t kill him.”
“We’re not in the business of killing people we don’t need to,” Crusher says. “You have my word on that.”
“Thank you.” Maria nods. “Now, here’s where it gets tricky. You have to convince Paco, the guy who does the deliveries, that you’re new and that there’s some reason Roberto isn’t there to receive the shipment. For most of you, that’s going to be impossible. Reason being, because—”
“Because we’re not Hispanic,” I interject.
“Precisely. Paco speaks almost exclusively in Spanish, so you’re going to have to find someone who can speak Spanish to accept the delivery.”
“Do we have anybody like that, boss?” I ask Crusher.
Crusher thinks it over for a second. “I think Grease could do it,” Crusher says slowly. “But we might want to be careful,” he adds, casting a furtive glance my way.
“You’d better be careful,” Maria says. “Especially if there’s a tr—”
“—truckload of Espinozas there, you’re right, Maria,” I talk over her quickly.
I don’t want it getting out amongst the rest of the brain trust that we think there’s a traitor in our midst, and I don’t think Crusher does, either. I nudge Maria, and she seems to get the message, so she keeps going.
“Okay, anyway,” she says, “so all Grease needs is the right code word, and the shipment will be yours.”
“The right code word?” Slime demands. “But how the fuck are we supposed to know that?”
“Now, the code word Roberto uses changes every night,” Maria continues as if Slime hadn’t spoken – I’m loving her antipathy towards him because Slime is such a fucking scumbag. “But there’s a little-known secondary code word that we usually use when there’s some reason Roberto can’t be there. ‘Lanzador’.”
“‘Lanzador?’” Crusher asks. “That mean something special in Spanish or something?”
“It’s not special.” Maria smiles. “It’s just Spanish for ‘pitcher’. But you have to be careful. You can’t just come out and say the code word. You have to drop it in conversation. And ‘pitcher’ isn’t exactly easy to drop in normal conversation.”
“Wait, so just ‘pitcher’?” Slime asks. “Like in baseball?”
“Exactly that,” Maria confirms. “So I sure hope that Grease or whoever can figure out how to drop that into the conversation. Do that, and the shipment is yours.”
“I see,” Crusher says, stroking his chin. “Maria, this has been… most helpful. Thank you for your input.”
“I want to see my dad taken down a peg,” she says as the boys get together to leave my place. “I hope you can do that.”
“We will, Miss Espinoza, we will,” Crusher assures her. “Boys, we move tonight. Make sure you’re ready. Now, let’s roll. Blade, see you back at HQ?”
“You bet, boss,” I tell him. I eye Maria, who is watching the boys in mild fascination as they leave the house.
I see them out, and when they’re gone, I turn to her.
“You did great, Maria,” I tell her honestly.
“You really think so? I was so nervous.”
“It didn’t seem like you were at all. You were confident. You knew your shit. You knew what they were going to ask, and I especially liked that you didn’t take shit from Slime.”
“Which one was Slime?”
“The bald, douchey-looking one.” I grin.
“You don’t like him very much, do you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t like people who are willing to beat on women just to make themselves feel powerful.”
“And that’s what Slime does?”
“That’s what Slime does. He thinks he’s hot shit, but one day, I’m going to take his ass down a peg, too. I just have to pick my spot.”
“I hope I’m there to see it when it happens. If you’re not a fan of his, I can’t imagine I would be either.”
“It’s not just that I’m not a fan of his – he’s legitimately bad news. I think he takes too many risks on behalf of the MC, and he just isn’t the right person to be VP.”
“He’s your vice president?” she asks, aghast.
“Yup.”
“Jesus.”
“Exactly.” With that, I make up the space between us and kiss her on the mouth. “Maria, I’m really, really proud of you,” I tell her again. “You were awesome today.”
“Just promise me something, okay?” she asks, an earnest pain coming to her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want anything happening to you, all right?”
I nod, then kiss her again. It’s a soft kiss – not passionate or domineering but rather ringing true and feeling good.
I can’t help myself; I’m falling for her.
Chapter Twelve
Maria
That kiss.
That unbelievable kiss.
I can’t believe it. I mean, I can’t believe it. This biker guy, this guy from a motorcycle club, he’s so different from me – so different from anyone I ever saw myself being with. And yet… and yet…
And yet I find myself drawn to him. It’s not like he’s my first or I’ve never fallen in love before. I’ve definitely been there, done that. But with Blade, it’s… different. He makes me feel something I’ve never felt before, down deep in my gut. Weirdly, for a guy who kidnapped me, he makes me feel safe. Secure. He makes me feel like I have the freedom to be whatever I can ultimately be, and when I’m with him, I feel that freedom distinctly.
And the sex is… well, it’s pretty awesome.
So when Blade tells me that he has to go, that he has to help his crew with the run, I find I have butterflies in my stomach. I don’t want anything to happen to him. I make him promise he’s going to be careful, with the implication that he’s coming back to me. I hope I’m enough to give him something to live for.
I spend the next few hours walking on eggshells, doing my absolute best to think about anything except Blade and how their run is going. I try binge-watching a cooking show on Netflix, but I keep hitting the pause button, getting up, walking around, washing the same dish in the sink, and sitting back down again, only to repeat the process five minutes later.
This goes on for some time before I curl up on the sofa, my eyelids heavy, and find myself falling into a gentle sleep.
I’m jolted awake by the sound of motorcycles rumbling outside Blade’s front door. Their headlights shine through the windows and right onto my face. Moments later, Blade bursts through the door, holding Crusher up as he hobbles towards the kitchen table. I see red on his shirt, along with a tear that’s very clearly from a knife.
“What the hell happened?” I ask, jumping to my feet and going over to help Blade help Crusher to the table.
“Everything went according to your plan,” Blade says, panting, “but we hit a little… snag.”
“You call this a snag?” I demand, rushing to Blade’s linen closet to grab some towels. “Blade, Crusher’s been knifed.”
<
br /> “Yeah, that’s the snag,” he says with a hint of irony in his voice.
“How did this happen?” I ask as I push the towels hard onto Crusher’s side in an attempt to stanch the bleeding.
“Everything was going as planned,” Crusher echoes Blade, “and we were coming out all right, with all the shit that’s in the sidecar of Blade’s bike. The boys should be—”
Within seconds, the door has burst open again, and three guys enter Blade’s house with boxes that I’m certain are full of cocaine.
“Twenty bricks in all,” Crusher winces as I begin patching him up with gauze and surgical tape Blade has brought me from the bathroom. “Not a bad haul. But then, your boy, Marco? Apparently, we didn’t knock him out as much as we thought we did. Motherfucker comes at us, and I stupidly get in his way. Thought the dumb son of a bitch was going to shoot me, but instead, he pulls out a knife and lays it into my side.”
